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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211732">He's Been Living in a White Bread World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonreynolds/pseuds/allisonreynolds'>allisonreynolds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, More characters to be added, North Side Ian, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, chapter names are the songs i mostly listened to while i wrote, dog tw overall, mickey and carl are a dognapping team, slight ian/kash but it’s only in passing and not because i ship them, trigger warnings will be posted every chapter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:20:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonreynolds/pseuds/allisonreynolds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ian's family dog, Daisy, gets stolen from the Kash and Grab, Ian must get her back. When he finds out his half-brother, Carl, and the hot security guard at the Kash and Grab, Mickey, are the ones who have taken her, he falls into the South Side life, the complete opposite of the lifestyle he was raised with in the North Side. Will his developing feelings for Mickey and his half-siblings be the very thing he needs to feel whole?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Mandy Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Uptown Girl.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: slight drowning and cigarettes, weed, emotional &amp; verbal abuse from a parent</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ian Gallagher was a black sheep in his own family. He was a bastard child of a drug fuelled affair between his father and his aunt. It was an easy choice to figure out who would take him; hell, his uncle Frank was a raging addict and Ian’s mother was clearly deranged and had her own demons. Legally, he was the youngest son of Clayton and Lucy Gallagher. But there was South Side in his blood, something he couldn’t shake from his genealogy. His father, his mother, his uncles, his grandmother— a true South Side boy.</p><p>And now, at seventeen years old, he was more of a black sheep than ever before. He had grown up knowing that his legal mother despised him, completely rejecting him from her life. He couldn’t remember the last time she had made conversation with him; real conversation, not small talk over a meal. His siblings were much older, they had moved out to colleges across the country. He had never been particularly close to either of them, though they were nicer to him than their mother was. As they had grown, a rift had occurred and they too drifted away. And Clayton, he tried to be a good parent to Ian, though the fact that he had a bastard son weighed heavily. Ian often wondered if Clayton looked at him and thought about Monica.</p><p>Ian didn’t know much about Monica, or her family. Years would drag by without a word from her, almost as if she had dropped off the face of the earth, and then she would spring back into Ian’s life, showering him with extravagant gifts, trips and anything else he wanted; his wish was her command. Eventually, Lucy and Clayton were able to get a restraining order against Monica for child endangerment and kidnapping; she had taken Ian to a waterpark when he was eleven after picking him up from school without telling his parents, not knowing he couldn’t swim and didn’t make him wear any flotation devices; “You’re a big boy,” she had said, her smile and eyes wide, “and big boys don’t need that stuff, right?” When Ian came to after being bowled over by the wave pool tides, he saw concern on Lucy’s face for the first time in his life. He had quickly learned to swim, not willing to let his fear of water consume him. He had made starting line up on his school’s swim team.</p><p>His half-siblings, half-cousins, on the other hand, didn’t try to befriend Ian at all. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they only ever seemed to come over when Frank was wasted, asking for money to fuel his alcoholism. Fiona, the eldest daughter, he had met only a few times and while she was polite, it was obvious how her immediate family was her main priority. Philip— or Lip, as he had asked to be called— ignored Ian like he was a bug on his shoe. His existence meant nothing to him, though perhaps his apathy was a blessing in disguise. He had never met the younger three, Carl, Debbie, and Liam, as Lucy had banned that side of the Gallagher family tree from visiting their house.</p><p>While being raised on the North side had its perks, Ian was bored of his mundane life. He attended an all boys private school, St. Leopold III Preparatory School, and while being surrounded by rich, preppy, <em>hot</em> boys that got under his skin in all the best ways, he felt unfulfilled. There was only so many times he could fuck one of them under the bleachers and have them ignore him in the halls the next moment. He had promised himself to never catch feelings for any of the boys he fucked behind the bleachers, mostly because they hid their sexuality behind layers of internalized homophobia and privilege and their equally rich and preppy girlfriends who attended the sister school, St. Afra School for Girls.</p><p>It wasn’t any better at home; it seemed like Lucy was counting down the days until Ian turned eighteen and she could ship him off to college so she could finally be rid of the constant reminder of her husbands infidelity. His dad was less apparent, though Ian couldn’t help but think he only loved him in the way a parents loves their biological child, regardless of any factors. It seemed like they cared for their dog more than they did Ian. Daisy was a Bichon Frisé, a pure-bred; perhaps thats where the issue was, Ian was a mutt in their eyes, something to look down upon. He didn’t belong in this cushy lifestyle, but in a pound or on the streets.</p><p>What<em>fucking</em>ever.</p><p>These were the hard truths of Ian’s life, as unfair as were. The cards he had been dealt were shitty, but he couldn’t change that. He could look forward to the future, one that he had planned out meticulously since he was fourteen. Join the army— that wouldn’t be difficult for him. He had been in ROTC for years, training almost everyday in order to be in peak physical condition. Become a Sergeant; though the pipe dream was to become Sergeant Major of the Army. He had never told anyone about that particular dream, probably due to the major obstacle that was in his way.</p><p>“Ian?” Lucy’s call echoed up to his room. It wasn’t an irregular occurrence for her to talk to her son when she wanted something. “Come and walk Daisy.”</p><p>It was easier to not ignore her demands, as it made Ian’s life infinitely easier. When he did there was hell to pay; an iciness would spread across the house, comments made when he was just out of earshot, “<em>I took that boy in, Clayton, and I sure as hell didn’t have to! He’s not even my son, and yet I pay for him to eat, to go to school—!</em>”. Overall, an unpleasant experience.</p><p>“Coming,” Ian replied loudly as he grabbed his school sweater to pull over his head. Despite it being April, Chicago’s weather was unforgiving as it came off a frigidly cold winter season. He padded down the winding flight of stairs, reaching the landing at the bottom. Daisy was looking at him expectantly, knowing exactly what Ian’s duty was. She was cute, he could admit, although the Burberry collar she wore was a little too extravagant; she was a dog after all. He clipped on the matching leash. He grabbed his winter jacket— it might be too warm but he wanted to play it safe.</p><p>“We’re leaving,” he called, and Lucy’s lack of acknowledgment was all he needed. He slid into his worn in sneakers, muttering a quick <em>heartless bitch</em> as he left. The sound of the door clicking was the universe signifying his freedom, his escape from the craziness that seemed to only exist in his house.</p>
<hr/><p>The air was chilly, nipping at the exposed flesh of his face. Half melted snow covered the lawns of the cul-de-sac, the slush on the road making him frown. This was the worst season, a time of transition that lasted far too long for Ian’s liking. He preferred the summer, the scorching heat that made freckles appear across his arms and shoulders and the bridge of his nose. He preferred people in the summer too, how friendly everyone was when the sun was shining above them. And he mostly preferred how Lucy took a fortnight long vacation every July with her college friends to tropical resorts, leaving Ian and his father alone in the house. Now that was a time of pure bliss for Ian; he could sneak out to smoke weed with the boys who went to the local high school and not return for days, and Clayton didn’t care, didn’t ask questions. After all, Clayton was South Side, he knew what kids got up to and never tried to dampen his fun.</p><p>Daisy happily trotted along the sidewalk, her small strides slowing Ian’s own gait down. It took a while to leave the neighbourhood, and once they had reached the next block, he reached into his pockets to fish out his pack of cigarettes that was in his inner breast pocket. Ian had learnt to hide them as Lucy despised the habit, regularly rooting through Ian’s belongings to dig up anything she could hold against him. He couldn’t help but smile as he wondered what she would do if she found Clayton’s stash of joints he had hidden behind her vanity mirror.</p><p>One cigarette left. Ian’s smile quickly faded as he pulled it out, lighting it with his white lighter. All the stores on the North Side had banned Ian from buying cigarettes, his fake IDs never passing the test. That’s what happened when you bought from North Side dealers, he supposed. His only choice was to go to the South Side, where the cashiers didn’t care about the legalities of it all— twelve dollars was twelve dollars, it didn’t matter where it came from. He took a long drag, checking the Apple watch he had gotten for his birthday last year. He had enough time to get there and back before Clayton got home if he walked fast. Daisy stared up at him from the pavement, tail wagging and mouth open, tongue lolling out. For all her virtues, she was a lazy little thing and Ian knew she would get tired before they even got there. He would have to carry her.</p><p>“Come on, you little shit,” Ian said to her, voice full of affection, “lets go.”</p>
<hr/><p>The Kash and Grab was Ian’s preferred store when he came to this side of town. It was a small, quiet store that sat on a quiet street front, the only people outside usually drug dealers or prostitutes looking for clients. Occasionally, a fight would break out on the street and something would come through the window, leaving it boarded up until the owners could afford to replace it. It wasn’t the prettiest shop or the nicest, but it was somewhat of a safe haven for Ian; a place he could feel South Side without committing to the lifestyle completely. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted a life like that, especially when he had grown up in an upperclass neighbourhood. He was accustomed to the maid service coming in on Saturday afternoons, from one to four pm, to vacuum and sweep and dust. He was accustomed to the family trips he went on to see Mason and Sadie, his older siblings, and the fancy hotel rooms and room service he could order. He was accustomed to expensive liquor, expensive weed.</p><p>It was obvious he was North Side, and Ian did his best to hide that as he walked down the street towards the convenience store. Getting mugged was barely a concern, he knew self defence and wasn’t afraid to use it if the situation arose, but it was a nagging thought in the back of his mind. Daisy had given up walking long ago, and he held her close to his chest, her warmth radiating off of her in waves. He heard the sound of a group laughing; a group of boys walking the opposite direction on the other side of the street. They were whooping, and Ian could only imagine what they could’ve just done. He felt a little envious of them, if he was being honest with himself; he had never had many close friends, only acquaintances that he either fucked or smoked with.</p><p>There were no boards covering up smashed windows at Kash and Grab, the South Side had been kind to the store. He placed the dog down, tying her leash to a pole that was outside. Giving her a pat on the head, Ian bent down. “I’ll be back in a second,” he told her, scratching her behind the ears just how she liked. Her tail began to wag again, and he smiled at her. Daisy was an all right dog, he supposed, though not what he wanted when Clayton had promised a puppy.</p><p>The store itself was dead, the only sounds the foreign music and the bell that rang when he walked inside. The man behind the register looked up, smiling slightly at the sight of Ian. Fuck, it was Kash. Ian grimaced, though he forced a tight lipped smile back.</p><p>Kash’s crush had been obvious the first time Ian visited, handing Ian his pack of cigarettes and leaving his fingers lingering on Ian’s for just a moment too long. Ian ended up fucking him in the backroom, a hookup he wasn’t proud of but had felt like it was the only choice he had in that moment. It didn’t break his top five, but it was a good lay with an older man that left him buzzing off the adrenaline high. Kash’s crush had only gotten stronger, as each time he had disappeared to the back to allegedly organize something, and Ian had followed because he wanted to chase that high again. He always left with the pack he had paid for and an extra.</p><p>“Welcome,” the man said, and Ian waved slightly, though he couldn’t help but turn at the sound of a scoff.</p><p>Short, dark and handsome. The security vest that hung from his stocky frame had obviously been bought from the internet and was too big for him. He was intimidating despite his stature, his scowl seemingly engraved into his face. Despite the scowl, his blue eyes twinkled with something Ian wasn’t certain of— perhaps it was humour. His arms were well built, crossed across his chest and Ian could clearly read his knuckle tattoos. <em>F U C K U U P</em>. How much more South Side could you get? His gaze sent a chill down Ian’s spine; it was extremely sexy for no reason, Ian doubted that they batted for the same team. He reeked of toxic masculinity.</p><p>“Just a pack of Smooths,” Ian said, turning his attention back to Kash. The man licked his lips, his sign that he was turned on and ready for Ian. He tried not to cringe, but he hadn’t gotten laid in a little while. Ian couldn’t help but look at the other man in the store, but he seemed engrossed in his phone. Kash put the pack onto the counter, sliding it towards Ian, the light blue packaging glistening as it caught the light.</p><p>“It’s an even twelve,” he told Ian, fidgeting nervously as he looked around the store. Another benefit of fucking the owner; tax seemed to miraculously disappear. “Excuse me, there’s a matter in the back I have to attend to.” He coughed slightly as he stood up. “Mickey, you’re in charge until I’m back,” his gaze turned to Ian, full of lust and wanting.</p><p>“My dogs outside, so we’ll have to make it quick,” Ian told him softly, and Kash winked. Ian wasn’t surprised, Kash didn’t have much stamina when he was taking it. A few thrusts to the right spot, and Kash was a sweaty, wrung out mess. It was a blessing and a curse, Ian supposed; it was harder to cum when Kash got overly sensitive and Ian had to rub one out while the man was on his knees in front of him.</p><p>“Whatever you say, boss,” was the snide reply, the voice gruff. Another chill went up Ian’s spine. The security guard, Mickey, just got even sexier. Kash strode to the back, casting Ian one last look before he disappeared and the door closed behind him. After he pocketed the pack, Ian wandered around the store, aimlessly looking at the chip flavours and various snacks that were in abundance. Mickey never gave him a second look, still typing furiously on his phone.</p><p>Before Ian entered into the back, he caught Mickey’s gaze one last time. There was a slight smile on his lips. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to cum today.</p>
<hr/><p>The second pack was given to Ian in a handshake, a pack of Southern Cuts. Kash’s fingers lingered too long once again, like they always did. Ian smiled gratefully at Kash, who immediately turned away and got back to his inventorying at the register. Mickey was hovering in the corner by the door, his lazy smile wide. It looked right on him, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges. He had given Ian all the thoughts he needed to finish while he was fucking Kash, and Ian gave him a small nod as he headed towards the door. One of his arms shot out, making Ian stop before he knocked into him.</p><p>“You sure you’re old enough for those, buddy?” Mickey asked him, his words dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t <em>look</em> old enough.”</p><p>“You sure you’re old enough for <em>those</em>?” Ian shot back, noticing the pack of Blacks that sat in the breast pocket of the vest. Mickey scowled again, and Ian felt a rush of triumph.</p><p>“Leave him be, Mickey,” Kash said harshly from behind the counter. Mickey’s eyes rolled at his bosses orders. A small act of defiance that really sent goosebumps cascading all over Ian’s body; fuck, he had a thing for that shit. Ian smiled, biting his lip without thinking.</p><p>“Get outta here, North Side,” Mickey said, pulling his arm back. Ian paused for a moment, sweeping his gaze over the man. A mental image for later, he promised himself, because it was impossible to fall for someone you just met; and Ian could hardly call their interaction a meeting.</p><p>The bell ringing was his exit, and Ian checked his watch again. He had wasted time while he was with Kash, and would have to make up the extra time. Fuck, Lucy would be on his ass. He pulled out the Smooths, beating the pack against the heel of his palm. Smooths were his favourite, but Kash knew to never give him two packs to get him to come back over and over; a smart move, really. “You ready to go, you little shi—“</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>Daisy wasn’t there, tied to that pole. Fuck, fuck, <em>fuck</em>. Ian could feel his stomach knotting as he looked at that pole. There was nothing, no trace she had ever been there. No collar, no leash dangling to indicate she had somehow wriggled out and fled into the depths of the South Side. No note to say that someone had taken her. Absolutely fucking nothing. Ian’s hands knotted his hair, he was so fucking dead. Lucy loved that dog more than she loved anything, her husband included. That dog was her third child, and Ian was a dead man.</p><p>Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to her: <em>got caught up at the dog park. ran into archie, you know how much daisy loves him</em>.</p><p>Her text came in a few moments later: <em>K</em>. It was the only thing she ever texted him, unless it was grocery day; then it was the list. Ian wasn’t sure if a mother who resented you was any better than an overbearing mother— he would never find the chance to find out.</p><p>Ian had no idea where to even start looking for Daisy. The South Side was a mystery to Ian, a labyrinth that seemed to have no end. He hadn’t even been gone for that long, just fifteen minutes. Mickey was fucking useless at his job, evidently, though Ian couldn’t blame him entirely. He hadn’t specifically asked him to watch the dog, though he wished he had. It wasn’t even like Daisy was a mutt; she had a Burberry collar for fucks sake. It was obvious she came from a household with money, and that was hard to find in this neighbourhood.</p><p>He almost smacked himself when he realized that the number on her rhinestoned tag had their home phone number on it; he was<em>so</em> fucking dead. Had whoever took her called already? Maybe, Ian thought, the person just thought she had been left. Someone had just abandoned their dog. Anxiety rolled up Ian when he realized that maybe the pound had taken her. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse.</p><p>He quickly googled the number for the local animal shelter, lighting his cigarette and taking a toke. It didn’t calm his nerves as he listened to it ring, once, twice, three times— why the fuck aren’t they picking up, who the fuck is calling this place?</p><p>“Hello?” a woman answered, her voice short and snarky. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“Hi,” he said quickly, “any chance you just picked up a little white dog with a Burberry collar?”</p><p>The woman laughed slightly, short and harsh. She thought Ian was stupid, that much was apparent. “No way, all we got is inbred street mutts and recused dog fighters. Want one of those instead?”</p><p>So fucking dead. “Are you sure?” he pressed, taking another drag as his fingers shook. “Maybe she just got picked up. Outside the Kash and Grab,” he added.</p><p>“Listen, I told you no. A dog wearing a collar like that wouldn’t come here,” the woman said, and Ian wants to yell. He’s really fucked up, and Lucy is going to have his head when he gets home. “There’s been a string of dogs disappearing and reappearing for ransom. It was probably those guys. Your best bet is to wait by your phone for them to call. Anything else I can help you with?”</p><p>“No, thanks,” Ian said before ending the call. Dognappers? It didn’t surprise him, he was sure people here would do anything for a quick buck. It was an elitist view, but it was one he had been conditioned with since he was young. The South Side was ghetto, and the North Side a utopia that he was lucky to have been raised in.</p><p>“Ay! Quit loitering!” Mickey’s voice broke the silence, and Ian turned to look at him. “Don’t you see the fucking sign?” He looked like he belonged here, fire and brimstone and those tattoos as he yelled at Ian from the doorway. “Get lost.”</p><p>There was nothing else Ian could do but slink off towards his home. He tried to attempt a story to feed Lucy when he got home, though he knew that she would be enraged when she learnt that her precious baby had disappeared. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her the truth about what happened. “I wasn’t watching her because I went to the South Side to buy cigarettes, rail a middle aged Muslim guy, and get yelled at by a thug.” That would go down well with her.</p><p>When Ian finally did arrive home, he steeled himself for the incoming torrent of her rage. He dwelled outside the door for as long as he could, working up the courage to face his parents. Who could he stay with when they kicked him out? He was going to move out once he was eighteen and enlisted, but he was seventeen with no friends. God, he was so fucked.</p><p>“How was the dog park, son?” Clayton called from another room once Ian entered. He winced, praying to whatever god there may be that his story would pass.</p><p>“Daisy ran away,” he replied as evenly as he could. “She pulled right out of my hand and ran after a squirrel or something.”</p><p>“She <em>what</em>?” Lucy’s voice was basically a scream as she stormed out of the kitchen and into the foyer, Clayton following suite. Her eyes burned with fury as she stared at Ian. “She’s thirteen pounds, Ian, she can’t just pull out of your hand!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he offered meekly, “I was looking at my steps.” He flashed his watch, showing her the activity tab. It was high, showing he had done a physical workout— a perk of fucking Kash that backed up his story. “I chased after her but she disappeared. I’m going to make posters and put them up so we can find her. I’ll even offer a reward out of pocket.”</p><p>“Out of my fucking pocket!” Lucy shrieked at him, Ian noticing Clayton’s slight wince. “Your money is the money I have worked endless hours for; you have no fucking money!”</p><p>“It could’ve happened to anyone,” Clayton was clearly trying to placate his wife, though he didn’t budge from his spot in the doorway. He was just as scared as Ian of his wife when she got like this.</p><p>“But it was <em>him</em>!” she yelled, and Clayton scowled at her.</p><p>“That’s my son,” he reprimanded, “your son too.”</p><p>“He is not my son,” Lucy spat at him, moving her scalding gaze from Ian finally. Ian took a deep breath; if looks could kill, she would have just been sentenced for twenty to life with that stare.</p><p>“Maybe not your blood, but he is!” Clayton was making the same argument he always did. "You know what they say, 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb'!"</p><p>“Her number is on her collar, I’m sure whoever finds her will call,” Ian added, though his argument felt weak and flimsy. He had no faith in the people from the South Side. “It is the North Side after all.”</p><p>Lucy stalked up to him, poking her finger into his chest. “You find that fucking dog or you are gone. I don’t care that in the laws eyes I am your mother, you are <em>gone</em>.” Her words were pointed, meant to drive daggers into Ian. They bounced off of him; it wasn’t the first time she had snapped on him like this. “As soon as you’re eighteen, you’re on the streets like the South Side trash you are.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ian replied, unwavering as he looked at her. “I’ll make posters and put them up as soon as they’re done.”</p><p>He sped up the stairs, ignoring her sobs as she fell apart in her husband’s arms. Oh, he was so fucked.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>uptown girl by billy joel.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Ric Flair Drip.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: drug mentions (drug deals specifically), cigarettes, insinuation of mental handicap, gun mention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three days; that’s how long it had been since Daisy had been whisked away by god knows who. Three days of pure hostility from Lucy, a constant frost that had settled over the house. It felt like walking on eggshells, Ian tiptoeing around the house while doing his best to avoid any interaction with her. It wasn’t like she would have purposefully interacted with him anyway, but her bitter looks and lingering silence was no help either. Clayton had attempted at light conversation with both this wife and son, though neither were receptive to his efforts. The dinners that the family, if you could even call them that, used to share over the dining room table with accompanied awkward small talk turned into Ian eating alone in his room, Lucy and Clayton in the living room.</p><p>The food dish that sat on the front porch in a futile attempt to coerce Daisy back was always empty in the mornings; Lucy would squeal with joy as she shook the treat bag outside. Ian knew that it was just raccoons and possums that would stuff their faces with a free meal of top end wet dog food. And every morning, Lucy’s face fall as she realized the unfortunate truth; Daisy hadn’t come back to their house. Ian couldn’t help the guilt that built inside him, it was completely his fault that their dog had disappeared.</p><p>Three days with no calls regarding Daisy’s whereabouts. Three days being consumed by guilt; it felt like he was being eaten alive from the inside out. Three days since he had put the posters up across his neighbourhood, before returning to the South Side in a desperate attempt to rescue her. Three days since those posters had been stapled onto wooden poles atop various other torn and water stained pieces of paper, the thousand dollar reward he was offering enticing multiple calls to his phone from no one with any viable information. Just people desperate for the reward, despite the fact that they didn’t have the dog; Ian sincerely hoped she was okay.</p><p>But on the fourth day, while Ian was sitting in fifth period Calculus, his phone rang. Another unknown number, though the area code was local. He almost didn’t answer it, expecting another dud conversation again; “Yeah, we have your dog,” they would say, their voice expectant as they thought they were in the clear for the reward, “What collar is she wearing?” he would ask, trying his best not to get his hopes up, “A pink one, so I would prefer the reward in ca—“. A real disappointment and blow to Ian’s confidence that he would ever rescue Daisy.</p><p>“Excuse me, sir,” Ian interrupted the lesson, raising his hand in the air, “may I go to the bathroom, sir? It’s an emergency.”</p><p>His teacher regarded him skeptically for a second, his response in the form of a curt nod. “Don’t forget the hall pass,” he reminded his student, before turning back to his lesson regarding vectors. Ian quickly grabbed the pass and ducked into the silent hall, answering the call as soon as he was out of earshot of the surrounding classes.</p><p>“Hello?” His voice was strained, though he had to force himself not to get his hopes up that whoever was on the other side of the phone had the dog.</p><p>There was a slight pause from the other end before a response came. “We have your dog,” the voice was low but comically so, like someone was trying to disguise their identity. It was strange behaviour, but Ian supposed that this was just another person attempting to reap the reward.</p><p>“What collar is she wearing?” It felt like Ian had asked that so many times, and he couldn’t help the exasperation that bled into his tone. He was tired of being jerked around by these South Siders who were desperate for any shred of money. A slight jangling could be heard on the line, and Ian braced himself for disappointment.</p><p>“I don't know, it’s like plaid or something.” Ian felt his stomach drop at the reply. That was the closest thing anyone had offered to a viable piece of information. But he knew that it wasn’t a confirmation that the mystery caller had her, for all he knew they had just seen her in passing and this was a vy for the reward.</p><p>“It’s Burberry, dumbass!” a female voice called in the background of the other line, and whoever was on the phone muffled the call. There was no doubt in Ian’s mind now, Daisy was in the possession of these people. He let out a sigh of relief, he could finally breathe now. He could hear the sound of two people arguing, though it was unintelligible due to the covering of the microphone.</p><p>“Hello?” Ian asked as the moments of practical silence dragged on. He was sure he could hear the girl telling the caller that he should brush up on his fashion knowledge. That earned a small smile; she was savvy for someone from that area.</p><p>“What?” the caller snapped, his true voice being revealed. He sounded young, younger than Ian had expected, like he had barely hit puberty. He was shocked to say the least; a kid this young had just taken his dog and was now calling four days after the fact. Ian wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or offended; was he a good samaritan who thought Daisy had been left by herself on the street, or was he someone who took her knowing that her owners would be offering a reward for her safe return? Ian hoped it was the former; it was his optimism peaking through.</p><p>“Sorry, I just wasn’t sure if I was interrupting something,” Ian said, voice light and teasing. The kid let out a short snort, as if he thought Ian was stupid. It pissed Ian off, if he was being honest, but he didn’t want to ruin this transaction by commenting about it. “Anyway, you have her?” He paused, not sure if he should ask about how the pup was doing. Maybe it was too much at this point.</p><p>“Yeah, we have Daisy,” the kid had started to use the deep voice again, as if that was going to fool him in some twisted way. “You gonna pay for her?” Ian could hear another voice, an actual man, talking now in the background, reprimanding the kid on the phone; “Of course he’s gonna pay, there’s a fucking reward on the poster!” It was muffled, but there was something about the voice that Ian <em>almost</em> recognized. He felt as if he had heard it before, but he wasn’t positive.</p><p>“Yeah, thousand bucks right?” He felt foolish, as if this was a negotiation with a fucking kid and whoever the fuck else was there with him— the stranger had said <em>we</em>. Ian had the cash in a bag in the bottom of his backpack, ready to go at a moments notice. Despite Lucy saying that Ian had nothing independently, Monica had been generous enough to create a bank account for Ian as a child and set it so she could only deposit money, not withdraw; a perk to a manic episode that left him somewhat finically stable. The account didn’t hold a lot of money, but enough that this withdrawal didn’t ruin his accounts.</p><p>“Fifteen hundred, actually,” the kid drawled, almost dropping the deep voice charade, sounding arrogant as he spoke. “We’ve had to keep her fed, you know, top of the line stuff.” Ian could feel himself bristling at the words, it really was a negotiation now. He doubted that this kid fed Daisy only the best food, she was probably eating kibble and table scraps; he could only imagine how she would act once she was back home safely. Lucy would be furious, she hated anyone who begged, though especially Ian whenever he seemed to ask for anything.</p><p>“Fifteen hundred?” he asked incredulously, barely believing that was happening. “I’m not paying you five hundred for a bag of kibble that cost you barely twenty dollars.” He tried to keep his voice as even as he could bear. This situation was absurd, and any rational person would think so. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, completely exasperated; his patience was wearing awfully thin after the bullshit the South Side had put him through.</p><p>“I said,” the kid repeated, “it’s fifteen hundred for this fucking mutt.” He sounded aggressive now, as if he was completely in control of the situation. In actuality he was, he held the thing that Ian was after and could easily refuse to return it if he didn’t want to. It was so entirely fucked. “Or do you want a fucking body instead?”</p><p>Ian left out a small laugh; he wouldn’t be getting Daisy’s dead body when this amount of money was on the line. “Yeah, okay,” he countered easily; it was easy to be in control now. “You sure as fuck won’t be getting any money if she’s dead.”</p><p>The caller hesitated, the silence almost palpable between them. This kid wasn’t stupid, he knew how to manipulate the system. He wouldn’t expect anything different from a South Side youth. But Ian had played his cards right, the bluff obvious even though the boy had hidden it to the best of his ability. “You know what, fuck you,” the kid spat out, though that just made Ian laugh more.</p><p>“Listen, kid,” he tried his best to keep himself as amicable as possible, “I just want my dog back.” It wasn’t like he was trying to make friends with the stranger, but he was sure that this kid was just as dangerous as any adult. You didn’t grow up on the rough side of town and not know how to handle yourself, regardless of the age. He had heard stories of girls who would stuff their socks with bars of soap and would bash your head in with them.</p><p>“Then you better come get her before I sell her on Kijiji,” the kid retorted, the voice act completely over now. It didn’t sound like a false threat at all, and Ian didn’t doubt it. “2119 South Wallace; be there by four or your dog gets sold to the highest bidder.” This kid was cocky, and Ian almost cringed. He would have to skip ROTC, and without giving a valid excuse seventy-two hours in advance, you got fined and disciplined heavily.</p><p>Fuck it. Daisy was more important to any sense of stability he would have at home.</p><p>“Yeah, 2119 South Wallace, I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of school,” Ian could feel his stomach twisting at thought of going to an unknown person’s house to exchange that sum of money. It was scarier than being mugged; at least you could run and fight on the street but in a house you were caged, at the mercy of whoever was with you. Maybe he should have felt more fear, but it was too late. He was too close to getting Daisy back, and he wasn’t about to give it up because a kid sounded intimidating. The sound of the call ending was the stranger’s goodbye, and Ian was happy he didn’t have to make an awkward exit from the call.</p><p>Ian checked his watch, scowling as he realized the time. The kid hadn’t given him much time, especially if he was going to walk over to the South Side again. School let out at three twenty, and Ian guess he would have to run in order to make it the house on time. If there was something Ian was good at, it was running. He would have to ditch his school jacket in his locker, which meant he couldn’t iron it that night, which meant he would be breaking dress code. Whatever, Daisy was the more pressing issue.</p>
<hr/><p>The house at 2119 South Wallace was quaint, in a South Side way. The chainlink fence that surrounded the small front yard was rusty in places, from being worn down by the rain and snow. A grimy plastic chair that was no longer white, the ones Ian seemed to see only at barbecues, sat in the middle of the small patch of fenced in grass, and it looked like it was ready to buckle at any minute. The small, rustic porch that housed another plastic chair, though this one was actually white. He could see the ashtray that had accumulated a pile of cigarette butts; a faint plume of smoke still rising from one. The light grey facade of the house hadn’t been tarnished by unforgiving weather, and it was a nice change from the red brick houses he had grown up with.</p><p>Ian took a tentative step across the threshold from the street and onto the concrete block path that led up to the porch, not sure how to comprehend his emotions. On one hand, he was a complete outsider to this world; he didn’t know how to handle himself as a gang banging thug who ran the streets without a fear in the world. On the other, he was South Side through blood, and it sent a shiver of excitement up his spine. It was a strange feeling, like some part of him was finally home in the suburbia that was sprawled out in front of him.</p><p>It took him a second to muster up the courage to knock once on the door, and even more to leave his hands hanging freely at his sides. Sticking his hands into his jacket pockets could land him in a world of trouble, especially if whoever answered thought he was carrying. It almost made Ian laugh, he had only handled guns in ROTC; Lucy was adamant about her anti-gun stance. “We live in one of the safest neighbourhoods, we don’t need a <em>gun</em> in the house!” she would argue to Clayton whenever he brought the subject of home security up. That topic didn’t come up often.</p><p>The door swung open, and Ian almost balked. A boy stood in front of him, regarding Ian like he was a Mormon, like Ian was wasting his time by just knocking. His oversized plaid shirt hung over a faded band t-shirt; was that the Ramones? His jeans were dirty, with holes in the knees that didn’t look intentional and hems frayed as if they had been worn so many times they didn’t have any other choice. It only took a second for the kid to smirk, leaning onto the doorframe and fully sizing Ian up. The boy wasn’t small, just lanky and a little under a foot shorter than Ian. The arrogance on his face was so natural it surprised Ian, though it wouldn’t be a shock to know that this kid ran this hood.</p><p>“North Side,” it was a greeting, the kid smirking even more if that was possible. He was so easily confident it seemed to roll off him in waves. Ian wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or adversed. It was a different confidence than the kids he had grown up with that came from money and privilege, this was something that he had always had. This kid was <em>hot shit</em>.</p><p>“South Side,” he replied evenly, trying his best to sound just as confident as the kid. It was surreal, this whole experience. “You, uh, got the dog?” It surprised him he didn’t ask for the goods; it was common slang that he used exclusively for deals and it seemed like this was, for all intents and purposes, a deal.</p><p>The kid snorted in lieu of a laugh, regarding Ian with that look: <em>you’re wasting my time, North Side</em>. “Of course I have the dog, but I’m gonna need to see the money first.” His look was almost expectant now as he looked at Ian, showing something Ian wanted to peg as vulnerability. He wouldn’t dare say that to this kid; he would probably have his shit rocked.</p><p>“Show me the dog first,” it was basic deal etiquette. You didn’t pay before you saw the goods, because no one wanted to get scammed. The kid scowled, seeming to be confused as to why Ian was even proposing such a ridiculous idea. “And it would be nice to invite me in, wouldn’t want to get jumped from behind while we talk.” It was a jab, one that Ian thought would be effective. It would be an awful experience if he had nothing when he returned home. The kid hesitated before swinging the door open and walking further inside; Ian assumed that was his invitation.</p><p>The front foyer was cramped, shoes littering one corner of the small entry. They were all different sizes, some looking adult and others looking like they were made for toddlers. A single pair of black pumps sat together, separated from the rest. They looked expensive, though Ian doubted they were any higher line than Payless. He stepped into the living, taking it all in. It was homely, though disorganized. There were blankets and pillows strewn across the couch, toys scattered all over the floor. An empty bottle of cheap vodka stood upright on the coffee table beside a pack of Blacks, seeming to be proud to have a spot in this house. Lucy would have been appalled at the sight. Ian loved it.</p><p>The kid wasn’t anywhere to be seen and Ian didn’t think it would be polite to wander around a stranger’s house. This house felt familiar somehow, though Ian had never been to it before. Something about it was just so right. It sent chills up Ian’s spine; he officially disliked the South Side now.</p><p>Ian could hear the skittering of paws on the floor a second later, and a small white dog ran up to him. The dog jumped up onto his leg, though it didn’t seem interested in Ian’s presence. It struck Ian as strange; Daisy usually was more excited to see him after they had been separated for days when he went away for ROTC retreats. He crouched down, scratching the dog behind its ears and paused. He wasn’t a vet, nowhere close to it, but he was sure that Daisy didn’t have a penis.</p><p>“This isn’t my dog,” he said flatly, glaring up at the boy. “It has a fucking dick and Daisy sure as hell didn’t when you took her.” The boy paused, seemingly caught off guard by Ian’s realization. “If you’re gonna dick me around, I have better—“</p><p>“Milkovich!” the kid yelled from over his shoulder, interrupting Ian mid-sentence, “You gave me the wrong dog!” His voice was coated with tones of exasperation and annoyance, as if this wasn’t the first time an incident like this one had occurred. A sudden thought struck Ian with full force; were these those dognappers that lady from the animal shelter was talking about? They didn’t seem organized enough to be connected to a crime ring, that much was apparent, they were probably just two kids desperate for money.</p><p>“Well, which one fucking is it?” a male voice called back from somewhere Ian couldn’t see. That feeling of recognition hit him again; he knew that voice from somewhere, the gruff tones oddly familiar though Ian wasn’t sure if he could place it without a face. The male dog was stilling jumping at Ian, rolling over to get his stomach rubbed. Ian complied, and the dog’s tongue lolled out in appreciation.</p><p>“Well?” the kid asked, and Ian couldn’t help but look up in bewilderment. The kid was staring down at him with that look again, and Ian couldn’t help but glare daggers back. He seemed to be waiting for a response, opening his mouth as if he was stammering. It was a big <em>fuck you</em>, and Ian bristled where he crouched. The fucking nerve of this punk. He stood up, towering above the youth. He didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as they continued to stare each other down, the only sound the opening of a door and footsteps approaching.</p><p>“Anyone ever teach you time management, Gallagher?” the person said as he entered the room. “Which fucking dog?” he asked again, sounding utterly annoyed as if he had just been pulled from something important. Ian doubted it was anything pressing.</p><p>Ian tore his gaze away from the kid at the entrance, knowing he had just submitted and lost their little contest. Why had he just called this kid by Ian’s surname? He was almost positive he wasn’t the one being addressed when he hadn’t given out any personal information. Ian looked into the eyes of the stranger. <em>Mickey</em>.</p><p>“Dumbass didn’t answer me, he’s probably slow,” the kid retorted, his tone mocking. Ian wanted to turn around and glare once more at the kid, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Mickey. The man hadn’t even glanced at Ian, even though he was transfixed by him. His shirt was tight around his biceps, and Ian could only imagine how strong he was. Mickey’s jeans were tight in all the right places, though Ian didn’t dare himself to examine him further. He didn’t need to be bashed in a strangers house.</p><p>“Well, firecrotch, which dog is it?” Mickey said slowly, dragging each syllable out as if Ian didn’t understand English, using his hands to draw out the words. His gaze was just as intense as it had been in the confines of the store, and Ian wasn’t sure if he wanted to melt or scowl at him.</p><p>“Daisy,” Ian snapped back, trying his best to sound assertive despite his situation. “The one with the Burberry collar.”</p><p>Mickey rubbed his face in exasperation, groaning into his palm. “Do I look like I know what a Burberry is?” He turned away, motioning for Ian and the kid to follow him. “Just come find her.” He led Ian through a cramped kitchen to a door that led onto another porch overlooking another small yard. The kid was behind him, carrying the not-Daisy dog in his arms. Ian’s jaw almost dropped when he saw the pen full of small white dogs. There had to be at least ten, and they were all almost identical. Some of them were clearly not pure-bred, but Bichon Frisé mixes. There was no doubt in Ian’s mind; they were the infamous dognappers.</p><p>“Waiting for something?” Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow at Ian. He scowled at him before descending the steps and headed towards the pen. The dogs looked up at him expectantly, tails wagging as he bent down and petted some of them. One jumped up, and Ian could see the sunlight glinting off of the bedazzled dog tag— it was Daisy. He let out a sigh of relief as she licked at his face, standing on her hind legs. He scooped her into his arms, the licking never letting up. She seemed content, as did the other dogs that were being held in captivity, even though they didn’t have the brainpower to fully process or understand the situation.</p><p>“You gonna pay or what?” the kid asked as he placed the not-Daisy dog back into the pen. “Or are we gonna have to make you?” He was clearly trying to intimidate Ian, though Ian couldn’t help but smile. It should’ve worked, but the absurdity of this all was hitting Ian hard. Fucking security guard Mickey was a dognapper with a kid who just so happened to share a last name with Ian.</p><p>“Relax dude, I’ve never ripped anyone off before,” he said easily, swinging his back so he could reach inside and pull out the bag of cash. He walked up the stairs, pressing the bag into Mickey’s hand quickly, avoiding any unnecessary contact. “Forgive me for not trusting a kid with this much money.” The kid muttered something under his breath, but Ian was focused on Mickey. He tried to take a step back into the house but he was being held in place. Mickey’s hand was on the back of his collar, stopping him.</p><p>“Forgive me if I want to count this and make sure you’re being honest about never ripping anyone off,” Mickey drawled, and Ian stopped immediately. “Can’t trust North Siders.” Mickey had called him that before, and it sent a shiver down Ian’s entire body. Did Mickey recognize him from before, or was Ian just reading too much into it? He wasn’t going to ask for clarification.</p><p>“Can’t trust South Siders either,” Ian mumbled as Mickey pulled out the stacks. Mickey didn’t acknowledge him, just raising an eyebrow as he thumbed through the cash, lips moving as he silently counted. After a moment he looked to the kid and waved the bills.</p><p>“It’s all here,” he called down and the kid beamed, a genuine smile that lit up his entire face. Ian couldn’t blame him; fifteen hundred dollars was a lot for anyone on this side of town. He couldn’t imagine what they were going to do with it, he didn’t <em>want</em> to imagine what Monica’s money was being used for. “Why the fuck are you still here?” Mickey asked, as if he was surprised. “Get the fuck outta here.”</p><p>Ian tapped his fingers to his temple like how he had learned in the Boy Scouts. Mickey’s eyebrow arched up higher, biting his bottom lip as he regarded Ian. Mickey flipped Ian off before he walked into the house, Daisy squirming in his arms. Her leash hung from a hook on one of the walls of the kitchen, and Ian grabbed it and attached it, setting her on the ground.</p><p>“We’re home,” a female voice called from the front of the house, the sound of a door opening and shoes being slipped off following. “How’s Liam?” she continued, stepping into the living room. The woman paused at the sight of Ian, confusion clearly visible on her face before breaking into a grin. “Ian? Is that you?” she asked as she approached him, tears brimming in her eyes. She threw her arms around him, pulling him in close to her.</p><p>“I— I’m sorry,” Ian said, trying to wriggle out of the hug subtly. “Who are you?” He had never just had a stranger hug him for being in their house, much less identify him and call him by name.</p><p>The woman pulled back, a tear running down her face. “It’s Fiona! Your sister,” she clarified to him. Oh <em>fuck</em>. Ian had almost all but forgotten about his half-siblings due to their minimal presence in his life. “Why… why are you here?” she asked, voice choked. She held him at an arms length, scanning him all while smiling widely. It took a second before she looked down and saw the dog, anger flashing across her face. “Carl! What did I tell you about stealing dogs?”</p><p><em>Oh fuck</em>.</p><p>Ian Gallagher had stumbled into the South Side branch of the Gallagher family by a complete fucking coincidence.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ric flair drip by offset &amp; metro boomin.</p><p>hello friends! thank you so much for reading, bookmarking, leaving kudos and commenting! i seriously appreciate it : ) i've been so inspired for this fic and am so thrilled you all love it just as much as i do!! i have BIG plans for this au and cannot wait to explore it &lt;3 all my love and stay safe<br/>also ps. i wont be using hard slurs in this fic because i'm not a part of the disabled or mlm community so other more pc terms will be used in lieu !</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ask me for my switch code ; )</p><p>also read my other works if u want</p></blockquote></div></div>
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